June 19, 2021
(In which Eagle Beak is offered a new case and we meet the gang)
Yep, Private Investigator Hoffler is what it says on the name plate of my office door, and on closer inspection of said door you might notice several bullet holes, even though I’ve plastered and painted over them, ‘cause this business ain’t an easy one kid. In effect, my cross to bear.
June 18, 2021
Lena felt a dark rush.
It may just have been the purr of engine. Dom’s slick black Mercedes rolled like oil down the quiet street. The one Lena was pretending was hers. Dom always insisted on driving her home, so she’d told him she lived above the post office. She would wait inside when she got out the car, until he drove away – then walk the few streets home to her actual flat.
June 17, 2021
Backlogged tacos fester inside a body ill-equipped to digest them. Rotting burgers demand too much from some orifice or soft shell of skin to find a way to the quickest exit. Instead, they stack and seep within you for decades. Heart, spleen, intestines, liver, stomach, each hold back gossip of the secret sauces they contain. Now, mouths rattle over spot-stained kitchen utensils. No one ever calls in to write up this meat hacking hole teeming with pestilence.
June 16, 2021
WE ALL HAVE THESE SPLINTERS WE HIDE IN THE GROSSEST WAYS
Don’t judge the flies
dive-bombing the phantasm
in your mouth
or the boar that suckles on wood
missing its mother
sometimes you just have to latch
where it hurts most